The Best Cure is Cake
by J.W.Melmoth
Summary: Inspired by a scene from the film 'Wilde' and a discussion with a few tumblr peeps a while ago about how Blaine would react if Kurt was sick. NOT KLAINE-FRIENDLY.


**THIS FIC IS NOT KLAINE-FRIENDLY.**

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><p>Kurt winced as the door slammed open. Had his sinuses not been blocked, he would have caught the strong scent of alcohol that wafted in from the doorway.<p>

"Kurt, come on!" Blaine exclaimed, half-laughing and looking back over his shoulder before turning to face the lone figure in the bedroom. His face fell. "Ugh. You're not still sick, are you?" he said, frowning his dark eyebrows.

Kurt's only reply was a rattling cough. He felt around in the sheets and under his pillow until he found a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. His skin looked sallow and was covered with a sheen of sweat.

Blaine wrinkled his nose. "It stinks in here," he commented. "Come on, shower and get dressed!"

Kurt dry-swallowed a few times, working his throat before he managed to squeeze any sound out. "Blaine, I can't. I'm really sick. My throat hurts and I think I have a fever." His voice was low and wheezy.

"Today of all days?" Blaine asked, annoyance evident in his voice. "It's our anniversary! All of our friends are here!"

"I know. I'm sorry," Kurt said, his eyes drooping closed. "If I could just get a few hours of sleep-"

"I can't believe you're being so selfish!" Blaine exclaimed. "How do you think I slept last night with you coughing all over the place?! I'm tired too, you know." He turned to the tall standing mirror and slicked back his hair.

Kurt tried to sit up, and another large coughing fit racked through him, leaving him gasping for air. "Blaine…could you get me some…some water please?" He brought out.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Get it yourself. You know where the bathroom is."

Kurt closed his eyes. "Honey please, it hurts-"

"_Honey please_," Blaine repeated mockingly. "You sound pathetic, Kurt. You know I had looked forward to this evening so much and you go and ruin it. It's so typical! We were supposed to sing a romantic duet, you know. Who am I gonna get to back up my vocals now?"

"Blaine…the water?" Kurt tried again, wincing every time he swallowed.

"For fuck's sake," Blaine muttered angrily, his eyes falling on a bottle of Perrier on the dressing table. He took it and threw it at Kurt, missing widely. The bottle smashed against the wall and glass and water rained down next to the bed. "There you are then!" he shouted angrily. He glared at Kurt for a moment and took out his phone to check the time. "I'm taking our guests to Callbacks now. If you're not there in an hour I'm singing without you."

Kurt didn't reply. He simply closed his eyes and waited for Blaine to go.

A while later (Kurt couldn't be sure how much time had passed as he had dozed off), the doorbell rang. Kurt waited a few moments, but when it rang again, dragged himself out of bed and to the door, stepping carefully around the broken glass on the floor. Maybe Blaine had forgotten his car keys. That often happened when he went out by himself as Kurt usually drove when they went somewhere together.

But standing in front of him was not who he expected to see. "Adam?" he brought out, blinking to clear his vision. True enough, there he was, blond, tall, fresh-faced from the cold, wearing a knitted beanie and a smile and holding a cardboard box.

"Hello! Sorry for stopping by without calling first, but I was in the neighbourhood and I thought you might like some cheesecake from that place we used to-" Adam broke off as he looked at his ex-boyfriend. Worry replaced his happy smile. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt shook his head and cleared his throat. "I'm sick," he rasped.

"I can see that," Adam remarked and gave him a sympathetic look. "You sound terrible. That must hurt." Adam took in the sight of him. Kurt shivered and pulled his vest closer around his body. Standing up was making him feel dizzy.

"Is there something I can do?" Adam offered. "Shall I call Blaine for you?"

The corners of Kurt's chapped lips turned up in a mirthless smile. "He knows I'm sick. We, uh, had some people over. I think they went to Callbacks." Kurt spoke slowly and quietly, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Ah, to let you sleep?" Adam nodded understandingly. "And I go and wake you, I'm so sorry. I'll just put this in your fridge and be off so you can get back to bed-" He gestured at the cardboard box and stepped inside. Kurt moved away from the door and, no longer having something to hold on to, swayed on his feet a little. Before he could fall, Adam's hand closed around his elbow.

"Or the other way around," the man said kindly. "Bed first." He put down the box so he had both hands free to support Kurt and slowly helped him shuffle towards the bedroom. Kurt was protesting softly, saying Adam would get himself infected, but Adam shushed him. As they reached the door, Adam quickly pulled him back.

"Careful, there's glass on the floor," he said. Kurt was barefoot. "What happened here?"

Kurt shrugged. "I dropped a water bottle," he said.

"Right," Adam mumbled, eying the wet spot on the wall suspiciously. He then looked from the floor to Kurt's feet and towards the bed. "Okay then, hang on-" He bent down and brought his arm up under Kurt's knees, sweeping him off his feet. "I know you hate being the damsel in distress, but I have boots on," he said apologetically as he walked over to the bed and put Kurt down carefully. "I'll go find something to clear this away. Don't get up," he added the last sternly as Kurt made a move to help him. With a resigned sigh, Kurt gave in and dropped back into the pillows.

Adam made his way to the kitchen and put the cake away. As he was rummaging around in the cupboards looking for cleaning utensils, the phone rang. It went over to the machine after three rings.

_This is the number of Blaine and Kurt Anderson. Please leave a message after the beep._

Adam paused, his hand on the door of a cupboard. Kurt Anderson. He had never understood how Kurt had changed his mind from desperately wanting to be over Blaine to marrying him, but here they were. They had stayed friends, though Adam wasn't sure Blaine knew about that. They usually met in cafe's or at NYADA. This was the first time he had come over to Kurt's place since Blaine moved in.

"Kurt? Are you still there?" a voice spoke into the machine, slurring a little. Adam frowned. Was that Blaine? He sounded drunk.

"We've moved from Callbacks to this place a few blocks away now. It's a strip club. You should come-" There were other voices in the background cheering over the pounding music. "There's a contest… Sam's gonna enter. Probably gonna win too. Sexiest…sexiest guy I ever saw." More cheering and hooting on Blaine's side of the line. "Anyway, stop being a dick and get here or you'll miss the whole party." The connection was broken.

Adam stared at the phone dumbfoundedly. Why would Blaine talk to Kurt like that if he knew his husband was ill? The sound of Kurt's coughing roused him from his thoughts and he quickly continued his search.

Not long after, he came into the bedroom carrying a dustpan and a thermos flask. "I made you some tea, I know that always helps when I have a sore throat. Kurt?" Adam looked towards the bed. Kurt was fast asleep, snoring quietly curled up with his arms wrapped around Bruce. Adam stood and watched him for a moment. With a sting in his heart, he noticed that Bruce was still wearing the shirt he had given Kurt when they were together. Suddenly Adam knew he couldn't go. Not when Kurt was this sick.

After clearing away the glass, Adam moved a chair over to the bed and picked up a magazine from Kurt's night stand. He would wait until Blaine got home, so Kurt wasn't alone.

As Kurt woke up, his first thought was that he was still asleep. Why else would Adam be in his bedroom? It had to be the scent on Bruce's shirt, combined with the fever. But as he moved, his head hurt and his throat ached- painful reminders that he was actually awake. "Adam?" he whispered. The other man seemed to be dozing under an opened Vogue magazine.

Adam sat up and lowered the magazine. "Kurt, hey. How are you feeling?" he asked, stretching his back.

"Still a little sore, but better. What time is it? You should go before Blaine gets back," Kurt said warily, looking more as if he really wanted Adam to stay.

Then they both heard it. The lock of the front door. Muffled laughter. Stumbling feet.

"Shhh! My room mate is asleep in the other room."

Adam gestured at the door and Kurt nodded. Adam got up quietly and tiptoed to the door. He opened it to a small crack. Through it, they could see Blaine and another man making their way to the couch, mouths practically glued together and tearing at each other's clothes. Adam shut the door again, wanting to spare Kurt the rest. To his surprise, Kurt didn't look very shocked. If anything, he looked relieved. "Kurt?" Adam asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

"You know what? I think I am," Kurt whispered. He sat up. "I want to get dressed and then get out of here."

"Can I help you pack something?" Adam offered.

Kurt shook his head. "All I want to take from this place is your cheesecake. My lawyer will make sure I get the rest."


End file.
